


Downtime

by mosylu



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Caretaking, F/M, Hair Washing, Jyn is Very Tired, just domesticity in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 13:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17898647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: After a mission, Jyn is exhausted. Cassian's going to make sure she at least gets a shower first.





	Downtime

**Author's Note:**

> written for a nonny's tumblr prompt: "Having their hair washed by the other :)"

Jyn sat on the edge of their berth, too tired to move. Not move as in get up and walk around. Move as in any motion whatsoever, including collapsing back onto the flat hard mattress.

When she heard the door swish open, she was even too tired to look around. If it was someone other than Cassian, breaking in for nefarious purposes, she was just going to let them nefare and deal with it later.

Luckily for her, it was Cassian. He was probably supposed to be at his analysis post, but she wasn’t surprised he’d slid out when he’d learned her squad’s shuttle was coming in.

He said her name in his most gravelly, tender voice.

She grunted.

“Jyn,” he said again. “Are you all right?”

She made a hand gesture, touching the tips of her fingers all to her thumb, one after the other.

He paused. “Clain or Gamelow?“

She huffed out a laugh, remembering that the same gesture that meant "right as rain” on Clain IV meant “utterly fucked” in the Gamelow system. And of course he knew that too. “Clain,” she said.

He pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Is that blood?”

“It’s not - ” She paused and tried to think of what it wasn’t. Ah, right. “Mine.”

He was quiet a moment. “Was it bad?”

She blinked long slow blinks that felt like her eyelids were sticking together. “It wasn’t good.”

His hand moved over her sticky, bloody, grimy hair again. “You should get in the shower.”

“Don’t wan’ move.”

“I know, but you’ll sleep better.”

“Sleep,” she sighed.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “Up. Shower. I’ll come in with you.”

She glared at him. “You’re out of your mind.”

“To make sure you don’t drown,” he said patiently.

“Oh.” She considered that. “Will you wash my hair? It’s got all stuff in it.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Good then, yeah.” She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

He peeled her sooty, stained, grimy clothes off while she swayed drunkenly. She grabbed his shoulder for balance. “Knew you just wanted to get me naked.”

“You’ve got me,” he said, turning her and steering her toward the ‘fresher. “I wanted to leer at you for the first time in about a week when you look like a tank ran over you.”

She rested against the wall while he stripped down, and followed him into the shower. The nice thing about being based, however temporarily, on a Mon Cal cruiser was that all the berths had actual water showers, not sonics.

She let out a muffled shriek when he turned it on. It was _cold._

“Trying to wake me up?” she growled, looking down at the grime and the blood running down her body.

“It’ll warm in a moment. The water system’s been wonky. Close your eyes.”

She let them slide shut. Heard the _splut_ of the soap dispenser in the wall, then felt his fingers in her hair, scrubbing soap into her scalp.

The water warmed, as he’d promised. She sighed and slouched against him, and he wrapped one arm around her waist. “Don’t fall asleep just yet.”

“M'not,” she mumbled. “Just. Resting.”

The scalp massage continued, one-handed. His strong, sure hand seemed to be working out all the knots in her scalp and down into her neck and spine, too. She rested her cheek on his chest.

She roused enough to rinse her hair twice. Then he added soap to a sponge and soaped her all over, while she gripped the edge of the shower stall to keep herself upright.

She suspected him of performing his own visual exam, checking for blood or broken bits. He wouldn’t find any, which was why she permitted it. He worried.

“Rinse,” he said, and maneuvered her into the heart of the water spray. She shut her eyes and let it flow down over her, gurgling in her ears, leaking into her mouth, dripping from her elbows and her breasts and her fingers and her nose.

He ran his hands through her hair again, carefully and slowly detangling it. “Good?” he said, and his voice came a little muffled through the rush of water.

“Mmmf,” she said, and fumbled for the button. The water shut off abruptly. She let her head drop and watched the ends of her hair drip and the water slide down her body. When it swirled into the drain, it ran clear.

The dryer started up with a shriek that made her lurch. He caught her and held her until they were both dry-ish. Then he pulled her out of the shower, wrapped a thin Alliance-issue towel around her damp hair, and led her back into their room.

She ruffled the towel over her hair for a moment, dropped it to the floor on top of her filthy clothes, and stumbled toward the bed, crawling in naked.

He was putting his clothes back on. “No nightclothes?” he asked.

“Nope,” she yawned, pulling the covers over her and burrowing in. The mattress felt like the last word in comfort, which just another testament to how tired she was.

He sat on the end of the bed. She pried her eyes open to look at him, hair all spiky and disordered, shirt not tucked in, bare feet. Face soft with concern.

He badly wanted to know how it had been. She could tell. But even if she had been able to formulate words, she couldn’t talk about it yet. By the look in his eyes, he knew that.

He would go back to his analysis post, probably get the official report, and she could tell him what had happened after she woke up. Maybe.

She wormed her hand out of the covers and fumbled for his. “Thanks for the shower,” she said.

He squeezed her hand. “Anytime.”

FINIS


End file.
